I checked my cell phone around 930am and noticed I had a voice mail from Aunt Judy’s number. Turns out Uncle Jimmy had given me a call and before they ran off to Puerto Rico, I was to return the call. My heart was beating out of my chest as I dialed him, because who knows what he’d seen in those images?!
“So, what’d you do?” Jimmy said after we’d exchanged pleasantries… He may have meant “tell me exactly how it happened” but his emphasis on ‘do’ gave that hint of “How’d THIS happen?” I bucked up for it, told him my sob story (or, lack thereof) and he hit me with the news. “Well, from the images I was so privileged to see… you tore your ACL.”Don’t cry. You’re at work, you’re 26, and you knew this might be a torn ACL. But no matter my inner monologue to my tear ducts, they welled up anyhow. Sports are my life outside of this cubicle I’m stuck in!
Jimmy and I discussed my options, how long I’d be out of work, and I said I’d try to get the official MRI report to him as soon as I could. I didn’t get it to him before he left for vacation, but I did have it faxed to me 15 minutes before I hit the road to Chicago- and it was just as we’d suspected…
To quote the MRI report: “The anterior cruciate ligament is blown out. There is grossly altered signal in its place…”
Needless to say, I had the next 4.5 hours to spend with myself and deal with the reality of my injury. I was jittery and nervous, for some reason. I think there may have even been an onset of a cold sweat. But I let the road sooth my jitters, and luckily it was a sunny and gorgeous evening, and I was on my way to spend time with people I knew I could lean on for support with the recent news!
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